Charity's Warrior (24 page)

He growled like an animal. "I've never been so turned on in all my life," he said, almost angrily.

I lick my juices off his chin and say, "Then fuck me harder than you've ever fucked anybody!"

And he did. For eight or nine minutes the room was filled with his grunts and my squeals, and the banging of the door. Several times I was sure he was going to put me right through it. I couldn't move or help in anyway, so he just had his way. His breath sped and I thought of a way to help now that he is close to his climax.

"You're close to cumming for me now, aren't you?" I said. "You made me so wet, Justin. I've never came like that, and now your cock feels so good ramming in and out of me."

He growls his approval.

"Fuck me harder, Justin! Fuck me through this door! You feel so damn good."

For an instant I'd thought he'd hurt himself. His face is twisted up as if in pain, but then he lets out a long orgasmic scream. He holds me, growling, until he’s done and then lifts me off his dripping cock.

As he reached for the door handle, I noticed his entire body was trembling and so is mine. When his tired hand turns the handle and pulls the door open, it releases me while I don't have the energy to keep myself up. I fall to the floor and Justin joins me, both of us laughing at ourselves.

And,
really
, my little snort-laugh had to show up now?

Damn it!

"NO, YOU'RE RIGHT, I
could not have been more shocked," I said honestly. "When your name came up on my phone, I just assumed you were home. I couldn't believe you were in the city."

"I hope I didn't freak you out, Charity, I didn't want to do that. I just want to know you're okay and talk for a little bit, see where things are," he said.

He looked so much better than I had imagined. Just the fact that he was alive is a relief.

"Does anyone know you're out here?" I asked.

He thought about it deeply for a moment. "No, I guess not."

He must've seen the concern on my face.

"I wasn't good, I'll admit that. For a while after you left I was in real bad shape. I didn't think I was going to get over it, it just didn't seem possible. And, okay, I'm not there yet, but I'm in a better place than I was," he said convincingly.

"Then why doesn't anyone know where you are, why not check in with somebody so they know you're okay?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders as if the answer was right there, obvious. "I just took some time to think about me. I wasn't worried about everybody else. I was worried about myself and what I want out of life." He dropped his head a little bit. "I was suffocating there. I think I was suffocating myself."

It was another honest answer.

The Grey Dog on Mulberry Street was a great place for this; I didn't want him in my apartment, not if I wasn't sure how things would go. Granted, it was going better than I expected, but there was still time for this to turn. The busy, distracting atmosphere was just what I wanted.

"Steve, people are worried about you. I texted Melissa right after you called, so she has some piece of mind. She will tell everyone else—your parents," I said.

Steve thought about that, testing how he felt. "That’s okay, now I don't have to do it," he replied, smiling.

The waitress, a young blonde girl with a wide, bright smile and high pitched voice, brought us our coffee. As she trotted away she said our food would be out in a minute, which is great since I'm starved. When I left Justin's last night, I had worked up an appetite, but I was so physically exhausted that I went to bed hungry and passed out.

Thinking about last night made me smile. I found a text from Justin this morning. It said,
"Wow!"

"So, how are you?" he asked. "You've been here for a bit, have you found a job, a place to live?"

"Both," I said. "I've made a few friends here, and one of them got me in touch with a hiring manager that loved me and also they helped find me an apartment."

I didn't mention that it was a man that did all that for me. He could look as healed as he wanted too, but I just don't think Steve can take it, and I didn't want a scene or fight here.

"That's great, oh my God. Tell me about it, tell me about the job. What are you doing?" he asked.

I was excited to talk about this with him because it was safe. "I'm the Executive Assistant for the Director of Sales and Marketing at a software and monitoring security company. The guy I work for is great, middle aged, family guy, just a great guy to work for. I do all the expected schedule keeping and arrangements, but they're getting me involved into the projects and other things. He lets me have a flexible schedule, actually he insists on it. It's very cool to be where I'm at, I can see from what we are working on, where the company is headed. My boss is impressed that I mentioned that, he said most people don't get it."

"That's really great," Steve said.

"Thank you. It's only been a couple weeks, but I'm really fitting in," I added. "There's a few other assistants I work with and go to lunch with, and the hiring manager that brought me in, she's just down the hall and we talk all the time. The owner I haven't met in person, but he checks in over chat."

It was hard not to laugh at the understatement.

"And you're all set up in an apartment now?" he asks.

"Yeah," I said. "A one bedroom apartment that I'm basically stealing. I still can't believe how low I'm paying. Well, it's low for New York, still a lot everywhere else, but for here it's insane. I got all new furniture, the kitchen is really cute. Takes a little to get used to taking an elevator to get in and out of your home when you grew up suburban."

"I can imagine," Steve said.

The years of experience I had from dating him gave me an insight that he is not aware I have. His voice was off, and that meant he was faking his interest. I just didn't know why yet, maybe it’s just as simple as he doesn't care about my apartment, or is saddened by the finality of it.

"So you did it," he said. "No chance you will be going back home?"

"Not that I can see right now. It was looking bleak for a bit there, but now I'm right where I want to be," I answered.

"That's good," he said. "I'm glad for you."

"Are you?" I asked, wanting to be sure.

"Yes, absolutely. I know I wasn't easy on you, I didn't get it. I wanted things to stay exactly as they were. But that just isn't possible, people grow and change. In fact, I don't think you even changed that much; I think this was always in you. You were meant for more than our little town, more than our little group going nowhere," he said.

It was a compliment, but it was also full of contempt for our town, our friends. I didn't like that.

"I get it now," he continued. "I was pretty low mentally, as depressed as I'd ever been. I even thought about killing myself, like everyone is probably afraid of, but that's when it hit me. If I was going to end everything anyway, why not just end it and start something new. I didn't even have to know what I was going to do, no plan. I know you had a great plan, and that's cool, but I didn't have one, and I decided not to wait for it. I sold off anything valuable I had and took off."

"Where did you go?" I asked. "I’ve heard you've been gone awhile."

He sat back on his chair, ready to give his story.

"I went south, started heading for South Carolina, maybe Florida, taking my time since I have plenty of it. I was in North Carolina in a hotel when I started thinking about you and wondering how you were doing," he said.

Our waitress came with our food, and we paused the conversation. She was quick, thankfully, and I was shoveling eggs and potatoes down my eager throat moments later.

"So I decided to come up here and see you," he continued.

He was doing that thing again, saying one thing but meaning another. It was frustrating not knowing what he was really after. Obviously he did come up here to see me, since we are sitting here, but he is holding something back,

"How long are you in the city for?" I asked.

"Not long at all. I just came to talk, and I'll probably be back on the road tonight or tomorrow. To be honest, I was hoping you were having a tougher time than you are." He started laughing. "That sounded horrible, I know. That’s not how I meant it."

He was finally getting around to it, whatever
it
was. I smiled at him while he took a mouth full of breakfast.

The couple next to us is eating in total silence. They didn't look angry with each other; I think they just had nothing left to say. Their long, disinterested faces dance around the room, but never find each other. On a Saturday, the crowds were always a little different, less business and more friends and family, people that took the train in. A few were obvious regulars. The waitresses smiled and chatted with them longer.

My mind wondered back to Justin. I find it difficult not to think about him. I've been fooling myself, trying to keep my distance, and now that I see him struggling to change, to make an effort, it's getting harder to do. I had feelings for him almost immediately, and those feelings had already grown into something stronger than I'd ever had with Steve—with anyone!

Who was I really fooling by denying this?

Steve takes a swig of his coffee. "Listen, once I had some clarity, and I was starting to understand your need to get away, I thought I would come here and see how you were doing. And, if it wasn't going well, maybe you would be interested in a Plan B."

"Plan B?" I asked.

"Yeah, if the job wasn't there, and money was getting low, but you still had your dream, I thought maybe we could do it together. Hit the road and see where is it takes us. I know it's not what you wanted, but I thought if that wasn't working—why not do something else?"

I knew this was going to get uncomfortable at some point, knew it the moment my phone rang and I saw his number.

"But," he said as he shoved a corner of toast covered with egg into his mouth, making me wait to hear what he had to say next. "That seems silly, since this is working for you, right?"

Was he really going to put us through this again?

"It's not silly, Steve. Don't call it that, I wouldn't. But I am happy here, it's working out for me," I told him.

"I know I'm making you nervous, Charity, but believe me you don't need to be. Whatever you have to say, you say, I can handle it. I love you, Charity, but I've come to terms with knowing that you don't feel the same. I just couldn't go on in my own direction with a "what if" digging at my heart," Steve said.

I continued nervously, "What is it that you want to know from me?"

"I'm starting over, just like you. Is there any chance you will come with me?" he asked.

Thank God I'd chosen a public place for this, I couldn't imagine being alone with him right now. This was not going to go well. It was a freaking disaster the last time.

"Please understand," he said, "I'm hopeful for a yes, but prepared for a no."

I braced myself. "It's still a no, Steve. I'm really happy here, with how things are now."

Get ready for the battle!

"Okay. Thank you for being honest and not dancing around it," he said.

What the fuck?

I watched, stunned, as he scooped more egg onto his toast and took a bite. He noticed I was frozen.

"Look," he said, smiling and chewing at the same time, "relax and eat. I'm fine—we're fine. Eat, their food is great and the coffee is delicious, don't let it get cold."

"I-I'm sorry," I said, stumbling over my words.

Steve laughed. "Don't apologize, you've done nothing wrong. I do love you deeply, but I can't keep what's not mine. And I'm excited, too." He swept his light blonde hair out of his pretty, blue eyes. "I can go now knowing I tried, that I did everything I could. If I didn't do that, it would have haunted me. I could see me drinking myself into liver failure if I left that hanging out there."

I could see that too.